‘That’s a nice story,’ Helen said quietly, her own problems momentarily forgotten. ‘Where I live in London no one has a clue who lives next to them and certainly wouldn’t be trusted with a key.’
And then suddenly she realised that she didn’t live in London any more.
She didn’t really live anywhere.
She didn’t have a home. And she didn’t have a job.
For a brief moment her heart lurched with panic and then she felt Oliver’s hand close over hers, warm and strong.
‘And that, my dear Helen,’ he drawled cheerfully, ‘is precisely why I don’t live in London. Welcome to the Lake District, home of snow, rain and neighbours who know what you ate for your dinner!’
Helen laughed and the panic slowly receded. Somehow, with Oliver holding her hand firmly in his, she could pretend that everything was all right. That she’d be able to get through this and come out the other side.
He dragged her straight onto the dance floor, still holding her hand tightly in his. She glanced around her self-consciously but no one seemed to be looking at her.
Which was good, but it still didn’t mean she felt like dancing.
Her whole body felt battered and limp. How could she possibly dance?
Surely dancing was an expression of happiness and there wasn’t anything good inside her that she wanted to say.
The couples around them were dancing independently to the pounding music, but Oliver slid a warm hand around her back and pulled her firmly against him, forcing her to follow his lead, as if he knew that on her own she was incapable of movement.
‘You move your arm, you move your leg…’ He twirled her around, holding her firmly and smiled down at her. ‘See? Easy.’
Actually, it felt strange. Being held by Oliver felt strange. Unfamiliar.
She felt the solid muscle of his chest, felt the strength of the arms that held her and breathed in the subtle smell of aftershave mixed with sexy man.
Sexy man?
Helen bit her lip, shocked that she was noticing how sexy Oliver was when she’d been engaged to someone else until two weeks before.
Surely she shouldn’t be noticing?
But it was impossible not to notice Oliver Hunter. He was powerfully built, very good-looking and so self-confident that almost every woman in the room was casting wishful glances in his direction.
And he was so different to David. For a start David had been the same height as her and quite slight in build. Oliver was taller and broader and more solid. She knew that Bryony and both her brothers were in the mountain rescue team and she found it easy to imagine Oliver in that role. He was the rugged outdoor type, his dark hair cropped short, his hard jaw showing the beginnings of stubble. And he looked totally out of place in formal dress. On his way to the dance floor he’d discarded his jacket and rolled his sleeves up, revealing strong forearms covered in dark hairs. She had the feeling that he’d much rather be in jeans.
He looked tough and capable and very, very male.
‘What?’ He gave her a lazy smile, his blue eyes trapping hers. ‘You’re giving me funny looks. Should I be flattered or offended?’
She blushed. ‘I’ve just realised I’m probably hogging the only available male in the room.’
His smile faded and he pulled her closer and swung her in time to the music. ‘I’m not available. I’m with you.’
His words made her heart miss a beat and her first thought was one of guilt.
She shouldn’t be responding to another man.
And then she remembered that she no longer had any reason not to respond. She could flirt with anyone she liked. Except that it had been so long since she’d flirted with a man that she’d forgotten how to do it.
Her cheeks grew pink under his steady gaze. ‘You’re unbelievably kind.’ Her voice sounded croaky and she wondered if he could hear her above the music.
‘But I don’t want you to spend the evening being kind to me and miss out on the opportunity to meet someone exciting.’
‘I’ve met someone exciting.’